The Wicked Deeds of Daniel Mackenzie (34 page)

“I need to go in alone,” Violet whispered. She might be ridiculous explaining things to a dog, but she felt the need to. Venus looked up at her in seeming understanding.

Violet opened the door and slipped inside the room. Venus gave a resigned sigh and lay down in the hall as Violet shut the door.

Daniel’s chamber was large and dark, the fire burning in the grate not as high as the fire in Violet’s room. The flickering light showed a large, low-post bed against one wall, with a lump of blankets on it. From the lump came a very distinctive snore.

Violet had to smile, though her lips were stiff with fear. She crept forward, stepping carefully so as not to trip on a corner of the carpet, or a discarded boot, or perhaps another dog . . . She put to use her experience moving through the dark at her mother’s séances to glide noiselessly to the bed.

Violet raised her candle. She had a moment of watery fear, worrying she’d gotten the room wrong, then the candlelight fell on Daniel’s face.

He’d pushed the covers half off him and lay with his chest exposed. He’d been wearing a nightshirt, but sometime in the night had dragged it off and tossed it to the floor. The rest of the covers were mounded over his legs, dipping across his hips.

Daniel’s face was rough with new beard, his hair sticking up on the pillow. His eyes were closed, lips parted, and again came the snore.

Violet stood gazing down on him, unable to move. Daniel was a beautiful man, carved flesh and bone, well muscled from his athletic and frenzied pace of life. Violet couldn’t compare him to a god because he was so wonderfully human. Daniel was of the earth, and Violet was glad of it.

Wax dropped from the candle to splash on the sheet. Violet quickly blew out the candle, set it on the bedside table, and reached down to shake Daniel’s shoulder.

A grunt came from Daniel’s lips, but he didn’t wake. Violet shook him again. She tried to say his name, but no sound would come from her mouth.

A hot hand suddenly closed around her wrist. Daniel grunted again as he peeled open his eyes, the amber glint of them catching in the firelight.

The grunt dissolved into
Mmm
. “What a nice dream.” Daniel gave Violet a slow smile, his grip not loosening. “It stays even when I wake up.”

“D—” The word stuck fast in Violet’s throat.

Daniel’s fingers softened on her, and he tucked his other hand behind his head. “Are you walking in your sleep? Or am I still dreaming?”

Violet swallowed. Her mouth was still too dry, and she coughed. Daniel didn’t rush her. His hold turned to a caress, fingertips brushing the inside of her wrist.

Violet forced out the words in a hurried rush. “Daniel, I want to be your lover.”

“I didn’t think ye’d run in here in the dead of night to discuss your accounts.” Daniel’s brows drew down. “Ye didn’t, did ye?”

“Don’t tease.” She could barely breathe.

Daniel caressed her again, his touch burning. “I can’t help myself. I’m a wicked man.” In spite of his glib words, a guarded light lingered in his eyes.

“I’m wicked too,” Violet said. “I want this. I’m afraid, but I want this with you.”
In case I never have another chance.
“I want to be your lover. Entirely.”

Another caress as Daniel’s chest rose sharply. “Are ye sure?”

“Very sure.” Violet knew she should do something seductive—sit on the bed, touch him, flirt with him—anything but stand there like a frozen statue. “Please, Daniel. Before I can’t.”

Daniel studied her a moment longer, his fingers moving gently on her wrist. “If I were a stronger man, I’d send you away. Virtuously. For your own good. And mine.” Daniel released her, reached up, closed his hand around the lace of her nightgown, and pulled her down to him. “But I’m not.”

Chapter 27

Firelight kissed Daniel’s body as he pulled Violet close. He did it gently, not forcing, his grip light. Violet knew she could get away if she wanted to, but she didn’t want to. Not this time.

Daniel tugged her down until she lay on him, the barrier of covers between them, propped up on her hands so she didn’t come down on his bare chest. He let go of the nightgown to loosen its buttons—one, two, three, four, five. Daniel kept his gaze on Violet’s face as he loosened the placket enough for him to brush his hand inside.

Warm, rough-skinned fingers lifted the weight of her breast. Violet remained frozen, her hands on the mattress shaking with her weight. Daniel drew his hand over her breast, fingers closing over her nipple, which was already tight.

Daniel withdrew from the nightdress. Violet wanted to grab his hand and put it back inside, but she stopped herself. She wasn’t certain what she should do, how to proceed. Daniel had been so tender with her in Marseille, but they’d never completed the act. She didn’t know what was expected, or whether Daniel would simply pin her down and have her. Perhaps that was the usual method.

“I don’t know what to do,” she said rigidly. “You have to tell me.”

Daniel’s smile beamed in the darkness. “I’ll do better than that, sweet.”

He reached up with both hands, unbuttoned the last of the nightgown, and pushed it from her shoulders. Cool air, only a little heated from the fire, touched her skin.

“I won’t rush you,” Daniel said. “We have all night.”

The nightgown’s sleeves bunched at Violet’s wrists, and her breasts hung free, unfettered. She’d never been bare in front of a man before. The red-bearded man hadn’t undressed her—he’d simply shoved up her skirts and ripped her drawers out of his way.

This is different
,
she told her terrified self.
This is Daniel. This is what it is to be a man’s lover, not his payment.

Daniel slid both hands to her bare waist, caressing. He drew his touch up to her breasts again, both hands cupping her now. Violet took a sharp breath, but she made herself still, to
feel
.

What she felt was the heat of Daniel’s fingers, his strength as he lifted her breasts in his hands, his gentleness as he caressed them. Her back wanted to arch, to press her breasts into the cups of his palms. Violet resisted, not knowing what he wanted.

“Love.” Daniel lifted one hand to her face. “It’s all right. No one will come in.”

“I still don’t know what to do.” She couldn’t find the words to explain. Violet, who knew all about people and how to read every one of their emotions, had no experience here.

Another caress to her cheek. “This goes both ways, remember? If you’re feeling hungry, you feel hungry.
I’m
hungry for
you
.”

“I don’t know how to. I don’t know what to do . . .”

“No rules for this in your world, are there?” Daniel’s smile was lazy. “I’ll tell you a secret. There is no guidebook. No rules. It’s giving pleasure and getting it in return. Some lovers out there like to dictate every move, but not me. I’m all for enjoyin’ it and ourselves. Nothing we do in this bed tonight is wrong.”

Violet tried to still the shaking inside her. Her fear was deep, going back to a precise moment that had shaped the direction of her life. She’d changed in one instant from trusting girl to broken woman, no in-between.

Daniel wanted her to find the in-between, to live every second of the life she’d lost. And still Violet didn’t know what to do.

“In Marseille, you let me touch you,” she said.

“Yes.” Daniel’s voice was a pleasing rumble. “I remember.”

“Let me do that again. I wasn’t afraid then. Or less afraid anyway.”

Daniel slid his hands to her wrists, taking them out of the sleeves that still confined her. Her nightdress fell gently across her lower back. “I think I’ll be able to stand that, lass.” He made a show of letting go of Violet, stretching his arms, tucking his hands beneath his head. “Touch all you want, wherever you want. Move the quilts and pillows when you need to. Let nothing get in your way.”

Daniel watched her from half-closed eyes, firelight brushing gold to his unshaved whiskers. Perspiration gleamed on his throat, the hollow of it a shadowed dip between the hard spread of his collarbone.

Firelight also burnished the wiry curls on Daniel’s chest. His abdomen was flat, speaking of his active life. The indent of his navel was visible above the covers, but the blankets that snaked across his hips cut off her view of anything lower.

Violet placed both hands on his chest. Daniel wasn’t a statue; he wasn’t a god. He was warm, living flesh, with a beating heart and a slow smile.

Violet closed her eyes and enjoyed the sensation of his aliveness, his
being.
That she was allowed to touch this beautiful man made her slightly dizzy.

She opened her eyes again to find Daniel still watching her, wondering what she would do. The fact that he didn’t know gave Violet confidence. He was expecting nothing. He only waited.

Violet spread her fingers, the hair on Daniel’s chest wiry but soft. She watched a curl twine around one of her fingertips and smiled.

“Do you know how beautiful you are when you smile, lass?” Daniel said softly. “It’s like being touched by sunshine.”

Violet didn’t know how to respond. Daniel’s smile could warm her to her toes, make her day brighter, but she was embarrassed to gush.

She spread her hands across his chest, finding his flat nipples, which were drawn to points as tight as hers. Not lingering, Violet moved to the hardness of his abdomen and dipped one finger into his navel.

Daniel laughed. His hands came up, then he stopped himself and forced them back to the pillow. “I said there’d be no rules, but I might have to beg you to not tickle me.”

“You’re ticklish?” Violet asked in surprise.

“Exceedingly so. Especially on my belly.”

“Oh.” Violet lifted her hand away. Then she gave him a mischievous look and danced her fingers across his abdomen.

Daniel snorted with laughter and caught her wrists. “Little devil.”

Violet struggled with him, the playfulness relaxing her a bit. He was strong, though, telling her he could do as he pleased with her if he chose.

But he didn’t choose. Violet easily slid her hands from his grip. “Peace.”

Daniel waited, not trusting her, then finally he rested his arms back up alongside his pillow. “You’re dangerous, woman.”

Their tussle had shifted the covers down his legs. Violet stilled as she saw his cock resting against his lower abdomen, hard and waiting for her.

Violet had touched him before, had felt him come undone under her hand. But Violet had not yet looked at Daniel’s full length, at the firm ridge of it, the sign of what their playfulness was leading to.

A rush of panic came at her. Violet closed her eyes as she silently beat it back.

She’d been afraid for so long, and she did not want to let fear ruin this moment. Daniel was giving her a gift—himself—without hurrying her. He was being as patient with her as she’d seen him be with his father’s horses, as he coaxed the most timid to trust his touch.

Daniel knew how to watch, wait, encourage, and pull the best out of the horse. He could do the same with the children, and even his engines. He was a remarkable man.

Violet’s panic rose like a wave of blackness, cutting off her breath and her vision. She fought it silently, too afraid even to move.

Daniel’s touch broke through it. Violet pried open her eyes. Daniel lay without speaking, his fingers brushing her wrist, the softest touch. He knew what she feared, what she fought, and he didn’t grow impatient, or angry. Daniel waited, the small touch on her hand guiding her back down from the dizzy heights of terror.

Holes of light poked through the dark wave, which started to recede. Violet drew in a cleansing breath, her heart beating too rapidly.

She realized she still wore her slippers, backless mules that weighed on her feet. She slid off the slippers and let them drop to the floor, then quickly pulled her nightgown all the way off.

Daniel didn’t stop his gaze roving down her body, though he remained motionless, his hands again resting on either side of his pillow. “I must be the strongest man in the world. Have to be, to lie here while you’re like that.” His gaze flicked down her again. “You are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen, do you know that?”

Violet didn’t stop to enjoy his praise. Fear stirred inside her again, and she needed to conquer it.

Daniel
was beautiful. And sensual. When he’d made her feel so heavenly in his little apartment in Marseille, he’d instructed her to think sensual thoughts. Violet had brought up the memory of Daniel sharing the cigarette with her in London, and lying with her in the bed in the country inn.

The picture before her now was even more sensual. Daniel Mackenzie stretched upon the bed, quilts kicked to its foot. His hands were raised, out of the way, while his half-closed eyes showed his need.

Violet, who thought she’d never desire a man in her life, wanted this one. Not only was Daniel beautiful, but he was caring. He’d proved himself honorable many more times—without trying—than Jacobi ever had. But with Jacobi, Violet had been a child looking for a father, not realizing that adults were fallible and could be cruel and even evil.

Violet was a woman now, wanting the man who wanted her.

Daniel did nothing as Violet slowly and carefully climbed over him. She rested her hands on his wrists, as though reassuring herself that by pressing him back into the mattress, he couldn’t grab her, force her, do as he pleased.

Violet spent a moment looking at him lying under her, then she leaned to him and kissed his lips. Daniel let her keep holding him down, raising his head a little to meet the kiss.

They played that way for some time, kissing and tasting. When Violet lifted her head, knowing what would come next, edges of the panic threatened to return. “I still don’t know what to do.”

Daniel gave a little shrug. “There’s not much to it. That hard thing you’re feeling against your thigh goes right inside you. That’s it, really.”

Violet wet her lips. “I knew
that
.”

“Well, then.” Daniel’s smile returned. “We’re a step forward. How about we see what happens?”

But he didn’t move. Daniel was letting Violet make the decision, letting her guide how far they took this. Daniel obviously wanted her—he was hard and ready, the pulse in his wrists beating swiftly under her clenching fingers.

Violet drew a long breath. Holding it, she eased herself down toward the blunt hardness that waited for her. Her breasts touched his chest as she slid back, and new fear touched her heart.

“It’s all right,” Daniel said. “I’m here with you.”

Tears welled in Violet’s eyes. Still holding Daniel’s wrists, Violet slid her hips back and froze when his tip touched her opening.

“Take it slow.” Daniel’s gaze was intense. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Slow goodness
, he’d said. He’d proved to her that women could feel pleasure, that passion wasn’t entirely on the man’s side. She’d been surprised, but he’d been right.

Violet made herself inch back. Daniel made a faint sound in his throat as she slid a little bit onto him. Then she felt him, penetrating her, entering a place where she’d only ever felt pain.

Another wave of panic lifted Violet and threatened to cast her into the wall. She’d hurt when she impacted, maybe shatter.

But no, when he’d put his mouth to her opening, it hadn’t hurt. It had been beautiful. So beautiful that Violet had dissolved into powerful delight.

Daniel’s voice worked through her terror. “I’ll do this with you, Vi. We’ll do it together.”

Violet nodded. She could barely see him now. Before Violet could stop herself, she thrust her hips back, moving all the way onto him.

A long way. She was tight, but slick, and he went deep. A spark as sharp as lightning streaked through Violet, her skin heating as though she’d plunged into fire.

“Daniel.”

“I’m here, love.”

“Don’t let me fall,” she begged.